


Lost in This

by romanticalgirl



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance, The Academy Is...
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-17
Updated: 2010-06-17
Packaged: 2017-10-23 10:44:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 70. Mikey/William - making out</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost in This

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Get Mikey Laid](http://getmikeylaid.dreamwidth.org/) challenge.

  
It’s one of Pete’s ridiculous costume parties, which means Mikey’s dressed in black jeans and a button down shirt. It’s kind of a costume for him, because normally he wears t-shirts. Pete doesn’t seem to really care so long as _he_ gets to dress up and, given that half the partygoers are in Pete’s employ (in the loosest sense of the word), he has plenty of other people he can require to be ridiculous.

He hangs with Pete for a while until he gets accused of monopolizing his time using his Mikeywayian wiles by Gabe, then he goes off in search of somewhere a little quieter. The later the parties go, the louder and drunker they get. Mikey’s learned to leave before then, since his tolerance for alcohol has gone down as his meds have increased. He’s not quite ready to leave yet though, so he works his way into one of the back bedrooms, checking first to make sure he’s not walking in on something someone will regret in the morning.

He’s so intent on checking the bed he doesn’t notice that the room is otherwise occupied until he’s stretched out on the mattress, staring at the ceiling.

“If you stare long enough, you start to see Richard Nixon in the spackling.”

“Jesus.” Mikey jerks to a sitting position, looking toward the window. There’s a huge armchair turned slightly away from the door and William Beckett is sprawled in it, beer bottle held loosely in his fingers.

“No. Nixon. Though different chemical make-ups in the blood stream could give it a religious bent, I suppose.”

“Why aren’t you out at the party?”

William doesn’t straighten, though he does look at Mikey. “Why aren’t you?”

“Too loud.” Mikey turns and drapes his legs over the edge of the bed. “Too many people, but I’m not ready to go home.” Mikey learned on Warped that William hated answering first. Hated the shine of that particular spotlight, hated to be unsure, uncertain. “You?”

“People are likely to start their ill-advised couplings soon. Since I’m actually staying here at Pete’s, I figured I’d better stake out my territory. Bad enough to sleep in a wet spot, I refuse to sleep in one not of my own making.”

“That’s…kinda gross imagery, dude.” He stretches back out on the bed. Something else he learned about William on Warped – just because he’s intelligent as fuck doesn’t mean his sense of humor is above that of a twelve-year-old. “True, but gross.”

“Like Yoda.”

“You’re too tall to be Yoda.”

“True, but by that rule, I’m too tall to be anyone other than Chewbacca or Darth Vader.”

“What’s wrong with them?”

“Logistically, nothing.” He drains his beer and sets it on the ground, his careful movements telegraphing that he’s drunker than Mikey first thought. “But stylistically and such, I’m not a furry, even if I am crashing at Pete’s, and Darth Vader, according to Lucas’s reimaginings, is nothing but a whiny little brat with no consistent narrative through-line.”

“Okay, first of all, you have to just ignore pretty much anything Lucas has done since _Return of the Jedi_ , because the rest is all bullshit. No amount of kick-ass Muppet on speed Yoda makes up for Jar-Jar Binks and Greedo shooting first.”

“I would argue the Lego games, but point.”

“And secondly…” He frowns at the ceiling, sure he had a second point. Maybe _he’s_ drunker than he first thought. “Oh. Darth Vader is cool.”

“You know what bothers me?”

“Hmm?”

“All that fucking technology, right? Flying ships and light speed and shit?” He shrugs and toes at the beer bottle. “They couldn’t do an ultrasound and see she’s carrying twins?”

“Oh. Oh, my friend.” Mikey shakes his hand slowly back and forth. “No. Don’t fall into that trap. It only leads to despair. Do not attempt to apply logic to any Lucas universe. Do not, even for a moment, pretend that he had any idea what he was doing. Know only this – he was a genius undone by his own legend, bought into his own hype.”

“Are you going to call me Grasshopper now?”

Mikey raises up onto his elbows and looks at William curiously. “Do you want me to? Is this some sort of insect fetish, because if so, you’ve got a lot of balls harshing Pete’s furry buzz.”

“No. I meant…” William catches the ghost of Mikey’s smile and flips hip off. “Fuck you, Way.”

Mikey falls back onto the bed. “You really do want to sleep in a wet spot, huh?”

Laughing, William slumps back into the chair. “You don’t have to go home tonight.”

“I do. I live there.”

“You could crash here.” His voice is soft, and Mikey forces his eyes open to look over at William, not even realizing he’d had them shut.

“Yeah. Okay.” He shifts around on the bed, making room as William walks over. He strips down to his t-shirt and boxers – not in costume either, Mikey realizes. Mikey’s used to various states of undress with friends and enemies and other bands, but he watches William anyway. He’s too thin, but he wears himself well, probably buzzed enough that the self-consciousness has receded to manageable levels, closer to himself onstage than in real life. Not that Mikey’s all that convinced there’s a difference anymore.

He hates this time, every time. The point where his dosage changes and instead of highs and lows there is merely some sort of whatever, acceptance in lieu of real emotion. A zombie.

William climbs under the covers, yawning in the darkness. Mikey knows it’s late. Pete’s parties _start_ late. He waits until William’s settled then gets up. William makes a noise like he might protest, but Mikey just strips off his shirt and jeans and crawls back in the bed.

“Did you have sleepovers when you were a kid?”

Mikey frowns. “I slept in the basement with Gerard sometimes.”

“No, I mean…” William laughs softly. “Never mind. There’s just this phenomena. At sleepovers or slumber parties or whatever they’re called. The minute you turn off the light to go to sleep, you’re wide awake.”

“That sounds like that whole weird girls talking after sex thing.”

William laughs again and Mikey ducks his head to hide his smile. “Similar, I suppose.” He’s smiling when Mikey looks up at him again, and he can’t help staring in the darkness, William’s profile outlined in an unearthly blue.

“You know how to stop that?”

“Which?”

“Either.” Mikey shrugs. “Both.”

“How?”

He doesn’t think about it, except in the way he hasn’t stopped thinking about it, not really. He closes the gap between them, pressing his mouth against William’s. They’re both frozen for a moment, until Mikey moves in closer, his tongue sliding against the seam of William’s lips.

William takes a harsh breath, the sound shuddering against Mikey’s mouth, and then they’re kissing. Mikey’s tongue thrusts into William’s mouth, angling over him to push William onto his back. William’s hand fists into Mikey’s hair and it’s hot and aggressive, demanding as William’s kissing him back, fighting for control, for dominance.

Mikey learned this on Warped too, learned to fight for the kiss, learned to push William down and hold him until he was captive and desperate, arching off the bed for contact. Mikey looks down at him, legs between William’s and their cocks pressed together. It’s like someone flipped a switch and they’re both different people, ready to take what they want with teeth and tongues and thrusts and claws. Mikey tightens his grip on William’s wrists, hard enough that he can feel the bones grind. William grins wolfishly and wraps both his legs around Mikey’s hips, pressing so tight against him that it feels like the few clothes between them are burning.

He lunges forward and kisses William again, biting his lower lip until William cries out then taking his mouth captive, sucking on his tongue and licking at the smooth surfaces of his teeth, the roof of his mouth. William is always a host of sensations and Mikey needs them all, wants to steal them away to feel something outside the haze of nothingness. William provides, always, and soon Mikey finds himself on his back, William straddling him triumphantly. His fingers rake down Mikey’s chest, scraping the skin. He feels it in slow motion, senses waking and then he actually _feels_ it as William’s teeth nip at his chest, tugging scattered hairs and the sensitive skin of his nipples, biting and sucking down to the waistband of Mikey’s boxers.

Mikey arches up and William strips him, letting the elastic scrape down the underside of Mikey’s cock. It aches like a low, insistent throb and William’s laugh makes it worse, makes him _want_. He reaches for William’s shirt, fisting his hands in it and dragging it over William’s head, tossing it aside. The shift of William’s hips against Mikey’s legs lets him know that William’s stripping off his shorts as well and then there’s the hot slide of skin on skin as William moves up and reclaims Mikey’s mouth.

“Fuck, yes,” Mikey breathes into the kiss. His hands slide down William’s back to his ass, squeezing and holding him as he thrusts upward. William’s laugh is husky as he pulls away to bite at Mikey’s jaw before tasting his neck, licking and sucking sweat from his skin. “Fuck. Fuck. Yes.”

They grind together like it’s all that matters, slick wetness coating their cocks as they move against each other, friction and heat until Mikey can’t feel anything but the pulse of his orgasm, thundering like his blood in his ears. He gasps and comes, bathing himself in wet heat, feeling the echo of William’s orgasm as he loses control as well.

“Suppose coming all over me gets rid of the whole wet spot problem,” Mikey admits softly when he can breathe again.

“Mmm.” William eases off of him and falls back onto the bed, shifting slightly before curling up against Mikey. His fingers trace through the wetness, marking patterns on Mikey’s skin. “Like I said,” he yawns, kissing Mikey’s shoulder, “at least this one’s mine.”  



End file.
